I don't have a choice (but I still choose you)
by Ohori
Summary: "For me, it's always been you," Molly said, "But you can't say the same. You're the only man I've ever truly wanted, but I know that I'm not the woman you'd pick if you had a choice."
Author's Note: I do not own Sherlock.

I just want to thank don'tlikehugs18 for being an amazing Beta, if you like this story it is due to her suggestions and constructive criticisms, if you hate the story then the fault lies with me.

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Sherlock was still getting used to living with someone again. Although this time it was under completely different circumstances. John had simply been his flat mate while Molly was his…well, his Molly.

He wasn't uncomfortable with his and Molly's living arrangements. In fact, the last three months had gone better than expected. Sherlock still got to conduct his experiments, but now he had a live-in assistant who encouraged his scientific research.

In fact, going from only seeing Molly at work to living with her actually made Sherlock realize how much he disliked the previous distance between the two. And not just for the sake of convenience. He was pleasantly surprised that sharing his life with Molly was enjoyable; it made him appreciate how much she had put up with in the past, how happy he was that despite his best – or worst behaviour – she had never given up on him.

She stayed.

She was the one propped up on his kitchen table – recently cleaned by Mrs. Hudson of course – her tiny hands clutching his shirt as he kissed her.

Sherlock leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "I love you."

Declarations of affection still made him uncomfortable (and there would _never_ be any public displays of affection; God help him if he turned into John, constantly slobbering and pawing at Mary like a randy teenager, just disgusting). His concern that she'd second guess his intentions or start to question their relationship if he didn't tell her occasionally that he did indeed care for her greatly outweighed any awkwardness he felt though.

Suddenly, Sherlock felt Molly stiffen against him. She looked far too serious, almost sad. Sherlock had noticed this look on her face periodically throughout their relationship. It left him feeling _a bit not good_.

The fact that he had been unable to deduce the reason behind her apparent sadness bothered him greatly. He didn't think he had done anything to upset her. Although with women who knew? They were such emotional creatures – Molly included.

He had made certain concessions now that he was in an actual relationship, when he was away on a case he made sure to text Molly once a day " _not dead_ " to ease her mind; yet, he couldn't pinpoint anything specific he'd done wrong.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

" _Molly_."

Molly flexed her hands against his chest. She didn't really want to have this conversation. She knew she was acting like an insecure little girl, but sometimes she felt like the consolation prize in a game of musical chairs that Sherlock had lost. As though one day Sherlock looked around and realized that John was truly married, with a child, and was never going to move back to Baker Street to be his full-time assistant again. Moriarty and his criminal network had been dispatched, so there was no great evil for Sherlock to fight. Even Mycroft no longer bothered Sherlock – and suddenly when the music had stopped, Sherlock realized the only constant in his life was little Molly Hooper sitting on her chair all alone – not married, still working the same job, and he thought, "Well, I guess she'll do."

"Molly? Are you listening?"

"Sorry, just woolgathering. I don't know what's wrong. It's stupid really. This is already more than I ever expected really, I mean, you're kissing me on a table in your flat. The great Sherlock Holmes is in a relationship with Mousy Molly…and, and that's enough for me…really it is..."

"Molly, you know I am unfamiliar with the normal conventions of a relationship. And while I usually find your nonsensical babbling endearing, if something is bothering you, you have to tell me because I do not understand what it is you're trying to say. "

"You're the only man I've ever wanted. I think you might be the only man I've ever really been in love with. I know I was engaged to Tom, but we both know that wasn't going to last. It's been you. It's always been you."

"And you're unhappy about this?"

"For me, it's always been you," she continued, "But you can't say the same. You're the only man I've ever truly wanted, but I know that I'm not the woman you'd pick if you had a choice. I mean, if you had your choice, you'd be with The Woman. And that... well, I knew I'd never be your first choice…"

"Molly…"

"I'm not mad at you or anything, it's just that sometimes I think about it and I get a little sad, knowing that if she were still alive you wouldn't be with me, we wouldn't be together…"

"She is alive."

"What?!"

"The Woman is alive. I believe she is in America, or so Mycroft said the last time I saw him."

"What?!"

"Do keep up, Molly. The Woman is alive."

"Then why are you—"

"I haven't seen The Woman in over 3 years. If I wanted to find her, I could. Quite easily in fact. However, I have neither the desire nor the inclination to chase after her."

She hesitated. "You're sure?"

"I don't make a habit of lying to you."

At Molly's incredulous look, Sherlock amended his statement, "Well, I don't make a habit of lying to you _now_."

Sherlock had lied to Molly in the past, lied to himself even. When he had first felt these unfamiliar romantic feelings invading their friendship, he had ignored them, tried to delete them, but it was no use; they refused to be discounted. He had denied his feelings for Molly for so long because he knew he hadn't earned her, earned her trust, earned her love. In the past, he couldn't have given her the relationship that she wanted, that she deserved; but so much had changed over the last few years and he was ready now - ready for a life with Molly.

"Molly, please pay attention as I will only say this once, since I have no desire to turn into one of the men in those insipid romance novels you are always reading – no, don't deny it Molly, I know you keep them under your mattress, which honestly is a horrible hiding spot, I expected better from you – anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes, for some unknown reason you see yourself as my second choice which is patently false. You're the one that I want, Molly Hooper. Only you."

"Yeah?" A beautiful smile broke out on her face. "Isn't that just crazy?" She laughed.

"Please Molly, no more talking."

"More kissing?"

"Yes, excellent suggestion."


End file.
